Therapy Session
by Blitz
Summary: TCP fic! Therapy session with a psychiatrist (duh!) and a mutant boy. All dialogue; humor.


Disclaimer: All characters are mine.  
Summary: First funny TCP I've ever written. At least _I _think it's funny. It's a therapy session with a psychiatrist (duh!) and a mutant boy. All dialogue; humor.  
Rated: PG, with a few curse words in it.  
  
THERAPY SESSION  
  
"So where do I start?"  
  
"Start from how you feel about your . . . _transition_."  
  
"Great. Just peachy-dandy great. Hey! All cured! Can I _go _now?"  
  
"Sit back down, Evan."  
  
" . . . Fine."  
  
"Why don't you start at manifestation."  
  
"Okaaaay. I can do that. Let's see . . . Y'know, that's th'thing with those _darn _suppressed memories, doc - when you need'em, they're never there . . . Okay, okay. Picture this: hello, birthday cake! Buh-bye, birthday cake!"  
  
"Please. Be more specific."  
  
"Birthday cake go boom."  
  
"You're making this difficult for me, Evan."  
  
"Do I need to spell it out for ya?! My birthday cake popped in my face! I was _eleven_! It tasted good! But my mom was _pissed_!"  
  
"I can imagine. Tell me, please, what happened."  
  
"What's with all those plaques all over your wall? If you ask me, it seems like you got some egotistical problems there, dude. Just between you and me, most o'those are fake, huh?"  
  
" . . . "  
  
"Right?"  
  
" . . . Oh, good God."  
  
"Fine then . . . okay, it was like this - by the way, you do't have to lie to _me_, I'm not the one who's payin' ya - "  
  
"Evan."  
  
"Right. Story. So it was like this . . . "  
  
***  
  
I was sittin at the table, lights out n junk, my friends all sittin round. My mom comes in, this big ol chocolate cake with these candles on it. I mean, that cake kicked _ass_! It was the biggest motha I had ever seen!  
  
But then again, I had just finished drinking five cokes and my pupils were probably dilating and shrinking and spinning around. Y'know, one eye's lookin at ya, one eye's lookin' for ya!  
  
Anyway, I was all set and ready to make my wish and -   
  
***  
  
"HOld it! What are you writing?"  
  
"I'm just taking notes."  
  
" . . . On what?"  
  
"On your story."  
  
"Well, quit it. You're makin' me paranoid . . . No! Don't write that! I'm not paranoid! What did you write! Give me that!"  
  
"Evan! Control yourself!"  
  
"I'm sorry. Sorry. I'm cool now . . . Heh heh heh heh seriously thoguh, what are you writing?"  
  
"Notes so I can remember your story better."  
  
"Oh, yeah. 'Cause you're old, huh?"  
  
"No, so I have more details to remember . . . what's that smile all about?"  
  
"Just between you and me, doc, no man concentrates that hard on a pad of paper unless there are naked chicks on it. Tell me, there are naked chicks on that, right?"  
  
"No."  
  
" . . . Naked dudes? I mean, I'm not here to judge, whatever floats your boat, if that's your thing, ya know . . . "  
  
"I'm not gay. I'm just taking notes. Would you like me to stop?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Okay, here, I'm putting it down, see?"  
  
"Well, how do I know you're paying attention? You could be sleeping with your eyes open for all I know."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"See, it's only your word against mine."  
  
" . . . I'm not sleeping."  
  
"How do I know?"  
  
" . . . "  
  
"Do something."  
  
" . . . What?"  
  
"Do something . . . While you're listening. So I know you're awake."  
  
"Evan?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you want me to take notes?"  
  
" . . . Yeah, yeah, notes, that's a good idea. Notes. Okay, so anyway . . . "  
  
***  
  
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Birthday wish. I was wishin that Melanie liked me. Melanie turned out to be a bitch, though, so she didn't come to my party the next year even though almost everyone else did.  
  
I was like makin my wish and blowin out the candles and all this _fire _came out of my mouth! Then the cake exploded!  
  
I was sittin there like, what? Everyone was real quiet and didn't know what to say. Part of me, the funny side, wanted to say, "Well now, isn't _this _awkward?" and part of me wanted to run away and cry. There was this big flaming cake in front of me. I didn't know what to do, so I just tipped the cake over and ran outside to the front of the house and just stood there on the lawn -   
  
***  
  
"Excuse me, but would you _repeat _that, please?"  
  
"What? What part?"  
  
"About the cake."  
  
"I tipped it over."  
  
"How . . . how did you accomplish _that_?"  
  
"I just . . . put my hand under the plate, like this, and just pushed up and then I put my other hand around the back of the plate and lifted the whole thing in the air, like this, then I quickly dumped it upside down."  
  
"W-Why?"  
  
" . . . I don't know. What _should _I have done?"  
  
"Not tip the cake over? I'm sorry. Please go on. Oh. And by the way, please specifiy your power."  
  
"I breathe fire. The heat caught the candles and wax and table on fire and the gust of air and heat put pressure on the middle and sent the icing onto my face from the sides. ANYway, that's what happened."  
  
"How do you feel about your mutation?"  
  
"It's . . . okay, I guess, I mean, not a real strong point on dates: 'Hey, girl, need a light?'"  
  
"Please don't do that."  
  
"Sorry . . . How much longer?"  
  
"Another _whole _half hour."  
  
"Oh. Oh, well. Time flies when you're havin' fun, right, doc? Doc? Hey, doc - why're you closing your eyes and counting backwards from ten? Doc? Doc?"  
  
-The End - 


End file.
